Shotgun Vows (2 page)

Willa smiled. “How I envy your ability to do that.”

Not as much as I envy you.
Mattie barely held in a sigh. Willa was so petite and pretty. Even her wire-rimmed glasses couldn't disguise her beautiful blue-gray eyes. Tonight her shoulder-length auburn hair was secured on top of her head with a clip. Mattie made a mental note to ask how she did that. All thumbs herself, she never fussed with her hair. A braid was easy, fast, and worked just fine. That clip contraption wouldn't hold up when she was riding. But if she had a date, it could work just fine, she thought.

Lily sipped her brandy. “Rosita put the leftovers in the fridge for you, Mattie.”

“Thank you.”

Then she was free. No big brother watching. Whatever was she going to do with all this independence? The pressure was on. She didn't know how long Griff would be gone. The possibilities were endless. But tonight there was that poker game. Exhilaration surged through her, lifting her spirits.

The coast was clear!

Rosita Perez, the Fortunes' sixtyish housekeeper, entered the room. Her black hair was pulled back, highlighting the one white streak that started at her forehead and disappeared into the bun at her nape. Mattie liked the motherly woman who dished out hugs almost as plentifully as food. The downside was that she was followed by a man in business clothes.

Mattie felt two parts excitement and one part irritation when she recognized Mr. Stuffed Shirt in the expensive suit. Dawson Prescott.

He hardly looked at her as he walked briskly past
her to Uncle Ryan and shook hands. He nodded to her aunt and Willa, then gave Mattie the briefest of glances. Boy, that chapped her hide. Just like their first meeting when he had said she looked eighteen. Ever since, he'd ignored her, as if she didn't exist. Every time she'd seen him around the Double Crown with her cousin Zane and her brothers, he hadn't even glanced her way.
Cheeky devil,
she thought. She tried not to let it bother her, but it damn well did.

“I brought the portfolios for you to look at, Ryan,” he said to her uncle.

“Didn't I tell you that I trust your judgment? I've put together a dynamite staff, the best there is, one that I trust implicitly to handle money matters. Mostly family, I might add.” He looked at Dawson. “Or practically family.”

His wife smiled lovingly at him. “Didn't anyone ever tell you that pride, even in staff that is practically family, goes before a fall, my darling?” she teased.

He put his arm around her. “Yes. And when mine comes, it'll be a humdinger. I can only hope there's a bungee cord attached when it happens. But I trust Dawson. It wasn't necessary to bring this out here tonight.”

Lily looked at the newcomer. “But since you did, the least we can do is feed you. Have you had dinner yet, Dawson?”

Tell her yes,
Mattie said to herself.
Yes, yes, yes.

“No, I haven't,” Dawson answered. “But it's not necessary—”

“There are plenty of leftovers,” Lily continued. “Can we warm something up for you?”

Say no,
Mattie thought.
No, no, no.

“That would be great,” he said. “But I don't want to put you to any trouble.”

Perverse man,
Mattie thought. Completely ignored her mental telepathy. She would have to work on that.

“It's no trouble, dear,” Lily said. “As a matter of fact, Matilda just walked in, and she hasn't had dinner yet, either. So now she won't have to eat alone.” The older woman smiled brightly.

The evening had just gone downhill in a big way, Mattie decided. And it had started out so promising…. Now she was cornered. She wouldn't insult her family by not extending hospitality to another guest in their home. She would set a record for fast food-consumption, then say her farewells and head for the bunkhouse.

She forced herself to smile at Dawson. “I'm going to go clean up. Then I'll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Don't rush, dear,” Lily said. “We'll entertain Dawson while you freshen up.”

During her shower and then a quick combing and braiding of her hair afterwards, all Mattie could think was,
Why me?
Why did she draw the short straw and get stuck with the dude? Although if she had to be stuck with someone she didn't like, at least he wasn't hard on the eyes. She hadn't been that close to him since their first verbal sparring. Then she'd been too annoyed to notice. But tonight, being in the same room with him, she couldn't miss the intensity that made his hazel eyes seem more green, or the way the light picked up the sunstreaks in his brown hair, or how wide his shoulders looked in that white dress shirt, wrinkled after a day's work.

“Work?” she said to herself, slipping on a clean pair of jeans. “Number cruncher,” she said disdain
fully as she put on a long-sleeved white cotton shirt. She couldn't think of a more boring or lonely way to make a living. In fact, she might even feel sorry for him—if he was anyone but Dawson Prescott.

She glanced one last time in the mirror, and sighed as she noticed the blond wisps of hair that curled around her face. No matter how hard she tried, her hair had a mind of its own. So she'd quit trying to make it do anything other than braid. Was it her imagination, or did her eyes look a deeper gray than usual? Must be the anticipation of that poker game, she thought.

Mattie made her way to the kitchen. The floor of the large room was tiled with Mexican pavers. A distressed-wood table with eight ladder-back chairs stood in a cozy nook at one end of the room. At the other end was a center island work area, a counter cooktop set into the cream-colored tiles, and a built-in oven. Not to mention the largest side-by-side refrigerator she had ever seen.

That was where she now saw Dawson, half bent at the waist as he scoped out the contents. She noticed that his gray slacks pulled tight across his legs, revealing muscular thighs. She wondered how he managed to produce all those muscles while poring over numbers all day.

“See anything good?” she asked.

“Lily and Ryan said to make myself at home,” he answered, as he continued to study the interior.

Then he looked at her, and she thought his gaze lowered to just about her knees. No doubt he was trying to think of something to say to cut her off just about there. She resolved not to rise to any bait he
might set out. She would be the lady her mother always scolded her into trying to be.

She pointed to the open door. “I think pot roast and mashed potatoes were on tonight's menu. If you'll allow me?”

He backed away with an outstretched palm. “Be my guest.”

“Actually, I believe you're
my
guest.”

“Look, Matilda—”

She held her hand up, palm out. “Stop right there, buster.” She tried to add a teasing note to her voice. “My aunt expects us to keep each other company for this meal. That implies making conversation. To do that you need to get my attention. Especially if I have my back turned. I'll answer to ‘Hey, you,' or ‘Yo, babe.' You can even grunt if you'd like. But I despise being called Matilda. I let my family get away with it sometimes. But never ever, under any circumstances, call me that. Mattie is fine. Tildie will do. But if you call me Matilda, life as you now know it will cease to exist.”

“Tilde?” He stepped back so that she could pull the leftovers from the refrigerator. “That funny little sideways squiggle used in words to indicate nasality? Or in logic and mathematics to show negation?”

She was pulling two leftover dishes out, but stopped to shoot him an impatient glance. “I thought you had more to do at work.”

“How's that?”

“You must have a lot of time on your hands if you can remember such useless, insignificant information. How do you do it?”

“It's a gift,” he said with a shrug. “But I could ask
you the same thing. How do
you
do it? Training horses is a lot of work.”

She thought about that as she took two plates and put meat, potatoes, gravy and string beans on them, then put them in the microwave to warm. Then she turned to look at him. “I can't explain it. I just love animals—especially horses. I study their body language and mentally file away their disposition and character. They have traits, you know. Just like people.”

“So you sort of do what I do. Tuck information away in your head. Some of it useless, some of it not,” he said.

Damn the man. He had her there. Aunt Lily was right. Pride did indeed go before a fall. Her mother was right. She should behave like a lady and be gracious. She would eat a lot less crow that way.

“I guess you're right,” she said as sweetly as possible. “But you've had so many more years than I've had to gather information. How do you remember it all?”

He folded his arms over his chest. A very impressive chest, she noted with a small surprising flutter of her heart.

“A world-class memory,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. “And fortunately, I'm not ready to take up residence in the geriatric ward yet.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It's just that what you do boggles the mind. I've never been very good with numbers myself. I'm in awe of anyone who can make sense of it.”

“A lot of what I do is guesswork and instinct. Just like you,” he said.

She grinned. “But I bet your numbers don't give you love and affection like my horses do.”

He laughed. “You win that round. But I have no emotional investment in my numbers the way you do your horses. They can't break my heart.”

She saw a black look in his eyes. A remembered pain? She would have sworn that's what it was, and in spite of who he was and how he tweaked her temper, she did feel sorry for him.

“Who broke your heart?” she asked, automatically softening her tone as if she were working with one of the horses.

Instantly the vulnerable expression was gone, replaced by a teasing grin. “What makes you think someone broke my heart?”

“Mother says a person doesn't get through life without some heartbreak. And you've lived so very, very long,” she said teasingly. “Surely there are skeletons in your closet.”

“Only on Halloween.”

“Isn't there a saying in your country—no pain, no gain?”

“I think I've heard that one.” He shrugged. “Either I'm emotionally backward, or I've managed to gain without the pain part. What about you? Was your mother right? Have you had your heartbreak in the year-and-a-half you've been on this earth?”

“Cute. I'm not that young.” What she was was inexperienced, thanks to her brothers. Except for one single, painful episode. But a stampede of determined Texas mustangs couldn't force her to share the details of that humiliation with him.

“From where I'm standing, you look hardly more than a baby.”

Her back started to rise at his comment, making her want to show him that she was a full-grown woman. Her next thought was that he'd turned the conversation away from himself and back to her. Interesting. The words were spoken in a joking manner, but she sensed currents of emotion in him.
Had
someone broken his heart? Or was his pain from something else? She instinctively knew that if she asked, he would put her off.

Instead she watched him, mostly his eyes, then noted the tension in his square jaw. Noted also that he was a very good-looking man, in an older, businessman sort of way. Her heart began to beat very fast, and she grew warm all over. She hadn't felt this way but once, when she
had been
hardly more than a baby. Barely sixteen, she'd managed to elude her brothers long enough to develop a crush on a boy. The incident was a disaster.

But Dawson was a man—the first she'd ever been alone with as a woman. Surely that was the reason her body responded this way when she was near him. That, and the fact that she was
ready
to become a woman in every way. She'd been ready for a long time, but she had way too many brothers who took turns never letting their guard down. The explanation for her reaction to this man had to be that simple. Because Mr. Prescott was absolutely not her type.

But one thought struck her above everything else: her uncle Ryan's comment about his “dynamite” employees. She had a feeling that if she wasn't careful, this particular very male employee could light her fuse and blow up her whole world.

D
awson helped Mattie set silverware and napkins on the table. When the microwave signaled that the food was warm, she grabbed a pot holder and took the plates to the table. They sat down at a right angle to each other, and she began to shovel food into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten for a month.

“Where's the fire?” he asked.

“Pardon?” she answered. Her gray eyes—very pretty eyes he couldn't help noticing—met his gaze. Then she resumed eating.

“You're going to have indigestion if you don't slow down.”

“No worries. I've got the constitution of an elephant.”

Not exactly the way he would describe her, Dawson thought ruefully. Those legs. He would bet every last penny of his considerable annual bonus that her gams were not thick and wrinkled and gray. If they were, he was sure the knot in his gut would disappear. Considering the size of that knot, he had a heck of a nerve warning her about indigestion. Or anything else for that matter.

He wished he'd never agreed to keep an eye on her. Even Ryan had questioned his excuse for dropping over tonight, but it was the best he could come up with. He had to be here to watch her. Long-distance
baby-sitting wouldn't cut it—Dawson didn't do anything halfway. Besides, just before he'd left, Griff had reminded him that Clint Lockhart was still loose. He had escaped from prison and eluded all law enforcement efforts. The man had sworn revenge on the Fortunes, and was slippery as an eel. He'd already killed Ryan's second wife Sophia—who knew what he might do next?

Dawson knew that being a Fortune made Mattie vulnerable to Clint. If anything happened to her because Dawson slacked off, he wouldn't want to face her brother. But more important, he would never forgive himself.

Suddenly Mattie put her fork down, apparently finished. She stared at him. “Are you one of those anal-retentive people who chew each bite of food twenty-seven times?”

“No,” he said, staring at her. “But I don't swallow it whole, either.”

“Wouldn't have figured you for a slow eater. You strike me as the kind of man who has places to go, women to meet etcetera, etcetera.”

“Nope.”

“Really?” She nervously tapped her fingers on the table. “So no one is waiting for you at home?”

“Nope. I'm all yours.”

“Until you finish your dinner.” She rolled her eyes and heaved a huge sigh before glancing at the clock on the stove. She frowned. “You want to hurry it up?”

He looked at his watch. Eight o'clock. He got the feeling she was in a rush. “You going somewhere?”

“No,” she said with a breezy nonchalance that screamed liar. “But it's getting late. I've heard if you
eat too much too late at night, you'll have nightmares. Your body can turn on you if you make it digest all that food when it's supposed to be resting. Especially when you're advanced in years. So if I were you, I'd quit eating before you regret it.”

Since when did she care about his digestion? Not only that, but she was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. What the heck was she up to? “Come clean, Mattie. Tell me what's going on.”

Before she could answer, Lily Fortune walked into the kitchen.

Dawson envied Ryan. Lily was a lovely woman, and Dawson was glad the two had rekindled their love, which had begun when they were teenagers.

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” she said.

“No worries,” Mattie answered.

“You're not interrupting,” Dawson said at the same time.

The older woman smiled at him, then Mattie. “I just wanted to let you know that Willa's already gone upstairs, and Ryan and I are going to make an early night of it, too. But please make yourselves at home.”

Dawson nodded. “Thanks.”

“One more thing.” Lily looked from Dawson to his fidgety dinner companion. “Mattie, I just remembered something.”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow a group of schoolchildren are coming to the ranch on a field trip. I think the principal said they were eleven or twelve years old. They won a contest, and their prize is a day of horseback riding on the Double Crown.”

“Can't think of a better reward,” Mattie answered enthusiastically.

“I have a favor to ask you. Would you supervise choosing horses for the children? You have such a way with the animals, and the kids couldn't be in better hands than yours.”

A sweet smile transformed Mattie's face, making her eyes glow. “I would be happy to, Aunt Lily.”

The older woman nodded approvingly. “I understand there will be four or five children. It might be best if you have one of the ranch hands assist you.”

The glow in Mattie's eyes turned to a gleam that Dawson didn't trust. He remembered Griff's warning that she was looking to run off with one of the cowboys. Although she'd been working with them on the ranch for some time, Lily had just reminded him how closely. Because of his promise, it was now his problem. He could only think of one solution.

Before opening his mouth, his last thought was that this must be what it felt like to jump out of a skydiving plane. Then he said, “I would be happy to help her.”

Mattie, just sipping water, started to cough. Lily patted her on the back. “Are you all right, dear?”

Still coughing, Mattie nodded. Then she stared at him and asked, “You?”

“No, Mel Gibson,” he said, hoping to pull this off with humor. “Of course me.”

He would have to take the day off. But he'd been working a lot of hours lately, bringing Brody up to snuff on Fortune financial affairs. Dawson had earned himself a comp day. He was meeting Brody at the office in the afternoon. But he could use the morning for baby-sitting detail. To keep her away from the cowboys, he would stick to her like lint to tape.

“Really, that's awfully nice of you.” Mattie shot him a look that made a lie of her words. It told him she wished the earth would open and swallow him up. “But one of the ranch hands would probably be more helpful.”

“Not necessarily. I've spent a lot of time riding with Zane. I can handle horseback riding basics for kids.”

“You don't need me to work that out,” Lily said. “I'll say good-night now.” She smiled at each of them. “Sleep well, you two.”

When they were alone again, Mattie said too sweetly, “Don't you have some numbers to crunch tomorrow? Some minutiae to commit to memory?”

“It can wait.”

“You're very generous to offer assistance. But I was thinking of asking Ethan McKenzie.”

She'd sure picked someone quick. Maybe she'd had him on her mind all along. For something of a romantic nature? Or an elopement? He couldn't help wondering if Griff was right about her determination to run off with a cowboy. Had she already culled one from the herd, so to speak? All the more reason for Dawson to hang around. Although he had a sneaking suspicion that if he tried to cut the cowboy out completely, she would become even more determined to have him. Not only that, but it could push Dawson into a situation that would tip his hand, and she would figure out that he had promised Griff he'd guard her.

As long as Dawson was around to supervise, he didn't much care who the unfortunate cowboy helper was. “Okay, ask Ethan. But with that many kids, you can probably use more help.”

“Probably.” She nodded. “Kids can try your patience. They're pretty unpredictable.”

“Then you won't mind if I hang around, too.”

She looked at him as if he had just said he planned to walk naked from San Antonio to Houston. “Very sporting of you. But I think Ethan and I can handle them. After all, we're both still limber, and practically children ourselves.”

“True. An oldtimer like myself has brittle bones. I have to be careful not to break anything. But hasn't anyone ever told you there's no substitute for wisdom and experience?”

“I've heard that. I've seen you riding here on the ranch. But what experience have you had with children?”

“Not much, I'll admit.”

“Then give me three good reasons why you would volunteer to put yourself in harm's way with them,” she said suspiciously.

“One, maybe it's about time I tried interacting with them. Two, I could be an uncle soon, and kids are still a real mystery to me. And reason number three—if I hang out with kids, maybe I can figure out what makes you tick,” he said, watching her face and waiting for the sparks to fly. He wasn't disappointed.

Her gray eyes darkened with something that wasn't quite anger, but was damn defensive. Or maybe it was a defense mechanism. “And why, pray tell, would you want to get to know me better?”

“Beats the heck out of me,” he said. “But I do.”

Oddly enough, he found that he
did
want to get to know her better. Something about her intrigued him. Her pride. An indomitable spirit that came through
loud and clear. She was barely a woman, but he sensed a strength of character beyond her years.

She met his gaze for several moments, gauging him. Finally she said, “I have to give you points for honesty, Mr. Prescott.”

“Dawson, please. I feel old enough without you making me feel like my father.”

He winced at his own words. After the thoughts he'd had about her, he was hovering way too close to his father's shortcomings as it was.

“All right, Dawson. It's your funeral. But I would appreciate an extra pair of hands. Thanks,” she said grinning.

“You're welcome, I think.”

She stood. “I'll say good-night then.”

“Yeah. I guess it's about that time.”

“Oh? And what time would that be?” she asked, the doubtful note in her voice causing her friendly smile to waver.

“Curfew,” he answered.

The words produced exactly the effect he'd intended. Her shoulders stiffened, her gray eyes narrowed and finally her full lips thinned. Oddly, he found himself longing to have her sunny smile back.

“I didn't have a curfew even when I should have,” she snapped.

“Then what's your hurry? And don't insult my intelligence by saying ‘nothing.'”

She peeked over her shoulder as if she were trying to elude surveillance. Then she met his gaze and sighed. “All right. Griff is gone. I suppose it can't do any harm to tell you. It's poker night.”

Her brother was right. If she'd known he was a stand-in bodyguard, she would have shut down tighter
than a convent school when the fleet was in. “Would you like to expand that explanation a tad?” he asked.

“The ranch hands play poker one evening a week. Tonight's the night. It's an open game. Anyone's invited. I've been dying to learn, but Griff would never let me go. Now's my chance.”

“To learn the game?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes. And get to know the guys better.”

“Guys like Ethan McKenzie?”

“Yes.”

“The game is open?” When she nodded, he said, “Then no one will mind if I tag along.”

He started to walk past her, and she grabbed his arm. “Not so fast, buster. Someone will darn well mind.”

“Who?” he asked innocently.

“For starters, me. Why would you want to play poker with a bunch of cowboys? I bet not one of them knows what a tilde is.”

“Could be I just want to play poker.”

“Yeah, and it could be I'm a high-priced fashion model,” she said sarcastically. “Why in the world would you want to spend the evening with a bunch of ranch hands?”

“Like I said before, we haven't had a chance to get to know each other since you've been here. This is as good a time as any.”

“For whom?” she asked.

“For me. After all, if I'm going to help you with the kids tomorrow, it seems to me that we would be a more efficient team if we knew each other better.”

“We're not a team.”

“We will be.”

“When snowballs survive in hell,” she said.

He ignored her remark and said wistfully, “It's been a long time since I've played poker.”

“Why?” She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “Don't you have any friends of your own?”

“Of course I have friends. What would make you ask that?”

“Now that Zane and Gwen are married, you must be pretty lonesome.” She gave him an impertinent look.

She thought he needed to make friends? She actually thought Zane Fortune was his only friend? She couldn't genuinely believe that he had no one to hang out with. He cringed at the idea. When Griff got back, they were going to have a long talk about indebtedness. This favor was getting more complicated all the time.

And on top of her zingers, she was actually starting to appeal to him.

“No, I'm not lonesome. I have my spreadsheets to keep me warm,” he said. Not to mention thoughts of her long legs…. That image made him hot all over. “I just like to play cards. Okay?” he asked more abrasively than he had intended.

“Even if I'm there?”

Especially if you're there and your brother isn't,
he thought. “How can you ask that?” Before she could answer he took her arm and said, “Let's go, Mattie. Seven card stud awaits.”

“Huh?”

“No worries,” he said, imitating her. “You'll find out.”

But he didn't miss the gleam in her eyes at the word
stud.

 

The ranch hands lived in a bunkhouse about three-quarters of a mile from the main house. With Griff around, she'd never had a chance to see the inside. But she'd heard the guys talking, and knew it was Ethan and Bobby Lee's turn to host tonight's poker game. Mattie wanted to jump into the truck she used to get herself around the ranch, but Dawson insisted on walking. It seemed odd to her, since there was a chill November wind blowing. But then, it seemed odd that he was with her at all.

She'd been half joking when she'd said it, but maybe he really
didn't
have any friends. That, along with the fact that he was cooped up inside far too much, pushing around all those numbers, made her feel kind of sorry for him. It could explain why he wanted to hoof it to the bunkhouse. He must have a fresh air deficiency.